Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The Hunger Games meets Matched in this high-concept thriller where citizens must prove their worth by defeating the other version of themselves—their twin.
Two of you exist. Only one will survive.
West Grayer is ready. She's trained for years to confront her Alternate, a twin raised by another family. Survival means a good job, marriage—life.
But then a tragic misstep leaves West questioning: Is she the best version of herself, the version worthy of a future?
If she is to have any chance of winning, she must stop running not only from herself, but also from love . . . though both have the power to destroy her.
Fast-paced and unpredictable, Elsie Chapman's suspenseful YA debut weaves unexpected romance into a chilling, unforgettable world.
Praise for Dualed:
"A gripping, thought-provoking thriller that keeps your heart racing and your palms sweaty. . . . The kind of book Katniss Everdeen and Jason Bourne would devour." —Andrew Fukuda, author of the Hunt series
"Full of unexpected turns. . . . Fans of the Divergent trilogy will want to read this imaginative tale." —VOYA
"A fast ride from first to final pages, Dualed combines action and heart." —Mindy McGinnis, author of Not a Drop to Drink
"Intense and swift, Dualed grabbed me by the throat and kept me turning pages all the way to the end. Romance and action fans alike will love it." —Elana Johnson, author of the Possession series
"Stylish, frenetic, and violent, . . . the textual equivalent of a Quentin Tarantino movie."—Publishers Weekly
"A double dose of intensity and danger in this riveting tale of survival, heartache, and love."—Kasie West, author of Pivot Point
"This thought-provoking survival-of-the-fittest story will leave you breathless for more." —Ellen Oh, author of Prophecy
"Clever suspense—here, stalking is a two-way street." —Kirkus Reviews
From the Hardcover edition.
graphic, understand? Too much for a little chicky like you.” To have it so close—I can’t let it slip away now. For a second I tasted the promise of numbness, the safety and relief of it. I was only able to get out of bed this morning because of this chance to quiet the storm in my head. “Five minutes,” I tell him. “You can give me that at least.” “Nope. Can’t. Dire’s a busy man. I can’t be wasting no time of his by sending him some idle—” “I’m not leaving until I talk to him.” I growl the
stars still haven’t come out, and I’m left to navigate my way home without them. CHAPTER 4 The doorbell rings. I barely hear it over the sound of running water. Who could it be? Not Chord; I told him weeks ago I wanted to walk to school from now on. By myself. He went quiet, and from the look in his eye I knew he was as upset as he was angry. But he didn’t argue. As much as he understood that it was hard for me to see him because of what happened to Luc, he was also still struggling with
shop across the street from the terminal, I shiver and sink farther into my jacket. People walk by without a second glance, a continuous wave of human traffic that hasn’t yet shown signs of letting up, despite the hour or the darkness. Gritty from exhaustion, my eyes begin searching for what could be my bed tonight. It has to be close by. I can’t risk missing her. Not for something as insignificant as sleep. Not the alleyway beside me. Though the location is ideal, with a clear view of the
heavy, but I struggle to not go under again. Crouched in front of me is Chord. In the shadowed darkness of the alley, I recognize his familiar figure immediately. “At least it’s not my shooting arm, right?” I croak out. I can’t deny the fact that I’m happy to see him. For a minute, he doesn’t even speak. Then softly, “You really think this is funny, West?” I inhale. Exhale. “No. I know it’s not funny. But I don’t feel so hot, and even less like arguing with you again.” “I’m not the one doing
It’s been a while since I left Chord, and the inside of my house is lighter yet. Ten, I guess from the position of the sun in the sky. Rising steadily, it should make me warmer, but instead there is nothing. My skin, impenetrable. She’s not there. Not yet. And time passes. It clings and drags, but passes all the same. Ten o’clock becomes eleven. Twelve. Then it’s two o’clock, maybe three, maybe even four. The sun is falling. Slowly, but definitely, falling. That pale, ashy light of a dying